


Mr. Self Destruct

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And Bitter, Bucky is a bastard, F/M, bucky x therapist, dubcon, fuck steve rogers for leaving, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-01-30 18:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21432676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Summary:  Bucky has been left by his closest friend. With no other choice, he works for Stark Industries in the name of both Stark and Rogers but before he can begin his new position, he is mandated to attend counselling. With you, the company’s resident therapist.Warnings: Bucky’s a bastard, control, PTSD and other lovely mental issues, eventual nonconThis is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader, bucky barnes/therapist!reader
Comments: 47
Kudos: 295





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a two-parter because this one shot got a bit beyond my control. But I hope you guys like this. If you’re wondering what’s going on with me is I have no focus and this is what I decided to do instead of anything useful. Love y’all.
> 
> Anyway :) Please leave kudos and or a comment if you read.

Since it all ended, since the lost were found and the ash returned to sunlight, life had grown hectic. Your line of work became all the more important. New patients, new problems, new hours. 

For those dark years in between, it was grief counselling for the lost. Guiding others through the stages as you worked through them too. But how was one to cope with the loss of time? To cope with displacement in a world that had gone on without them. To come back to not only a different world, but different people. 

Those they had known before changed, but they’d stayed the same. To them, it was a blink of the eye. In their minds, they were never gone. They didn’t know the world after them. The flecks of dust that floated through the air, the startling silence that overtook the streets and stilled the leaves. They couldn’t know and they couldn’t understand.

Stark Tower bustled. It was like before, not that you’d been there then. You were hired during the blip. Steve Rogers organized sessions for the mourning and you accepted the chore of guiding them. Of teaching him how to address issues of grief and death. Of facing the unknown and the uncontrollable. Something he never quite managed to do himself; never really managed to let go of what he lost.

He was gone now. In the media, he was dead, like Stark. You were of the privileged to know that he chose to leave this world. His one goal achieved, he left behind all he’d fought so hard to restore. He left behind those who depended on him for his fantasy. For the life he refused to let go of. For her.

You couldn’t blame him but in your opinion, professional and otherwise, it would not ease his doubts. Not quell his fears of a life squandered. He was still running. He’d always be running. But he made his decision and chose the same plight in another time. There was nothing to do about that.

You were anxious. A new patient. You knew of him but you’d never met him. _Would you call Steve a mutual friend?_ Maybe just an acquaintance; a colleague. As much as your relationship with the man had blurred lines, so to had it with this man. His oldest and closest friend, rather ally. The one he’d laid his life down for and yet left behind just as impulsively. The man with a plan had never truly had one.

You stared down at the city through the window. Behind you, your pad and pen rested on the round table just beside the dark green chair. A couch sat across from it, grey but cozy. Long enough to recline but your patients rarely did more than sit stiffly or pace. Maybe hug a pillow as they sobbed.

You gripped the window frame. You were rarely so nervous about your job. You couldn’t be. Your task was to put people at ease, not rile them. Bucky’s file was there too. Hidden in the drawer of your desk. You’d pored over it. Military records and censored Hydra documents. A puzzle with missing pieces.

You heard footsteps in the hall. They paused before your door and you peeked over your shoulder as the frosted glass darkened. The figure on the other side was still. You waited. When they finally knocked, you flinched. You turned and stepped around the couch. Your heels were loud as the carpet dissolved to hardwood. 

You opened the door. “Come in,” You greeted, unsurprised by your visitor. Early but long-awaited. Long-dreaded. _Why?_ He was just a man.

He blinked and nodded as he stepped past you. The canvas jacket hid his metal arm and he seemed like any other man. His hands were tucked into his jeans as he hesitantly entered and looked around the office. The lights were dimmer than the usual fluorescents of the tower; the space cozy compared to the sterile labs.

“Would you like something to drink?” The door clicked as you closed it and he glanced around to look at it. His jaw clenched.

“No…thank you,” He walked along the back of the couch and you passed along the other side.

You took your notepad from the table and twirled the pen between your fingers. It hit your thumb and bounced off the leather folder in your hand. It landed at his feet as he halted suddenly. He picked it up with his vibranium fingers and considered the shiny brown plastic trimmed in gold. He offered it back to you without a word. You took it and he went back to investigating with his eyes.

“Would you like to sit down?” You asked. Your voice sounded brittle and you nearly choked on the pieces as it cracked.

“No,” He said curtly as he gripped the back of the couch.

“Do you mind if I do?” 

“Go ahead,” He shrugged.

You sat and the green leather felt unwelcoming. He stared down at his metal fingers and they tightened around the grey upholstery. His long lashes shrouded his eyes and his thick beard was laced with shadows. His long hair was drawn back in a tie but strands hung loose and untamed around his face.

“You don’t want to be here.” You said.

“What gave it away?” He rolled his eyes. You didn’t reply. “I have to be here, because they say I do.”

“And if you weren’t here, what would happen?”

“Then I couldn’t work.” His tone suggested you were stupid. 

“And what would happen if you couldn’t work?” You prodded.

He looked up at you and his blue eyes burned hotly. “Then…” He began and tore his gaze from you. “I wouldn’t work, I guess.”

“Is there anything else you could do besides this? Besides fighting?”

“Not since I put my name down in 1941,” He grumbled and turned his back to you. “Can you just tick the box so I can go?”

“No, because then_ I _wouldn’t be working,” You insisted. “So…you gonna sit down?”

He sighed and circled the couch. He considered the cushions but carried on. He passed your chair and went to the window. He stood as you had only minutes before.

“Why can’t you do anything else?” You asked. He was quiet as he played with the cord of the blinds. “Mr. Barnes–”

“Bucky,” He corrected you.

“Bucky, why can’t–”

“Because I don’t know how. I know how to kill and that’s it.” His voice was heavy and wrapped around your throat. “I just wanna kill the right people this time.”

“You enjoy it?”

Silence. He pushed himself away from the window and the cord brushed against the frame noisily. He stayed behind you, pacing just around your chair.

“It’s my job.”

“And you enjoy your job?”

“It’s work.”

“You’re not answering my questions.”

“Because they’re stupid questions.” His hands were on the back of your chair as he loomed over you.

“They are relevant questions.” You insisted, fighting not to flinch. If he sensed the rise in your nerves, it wouldn’t help. “So, do you enjoy your work?”

“I’m good at it,” He shoved himself away from the chair so hard it moved. “It’s what I know, what I do.”

“You never wanted to be anything else? To do anything else? Surely, as a child, you didn’t foresee war–”

“As a child, I was stupid. And as an adult, worse.” He walked along the wall and looked at your degree. He leaned in as he read the cursive font of your name and said it allowed. “I was never smart enough for all that.”

“According to your records, you were top of your class.”

“In a Brooklyn public school. In the 30s. Surely not the peak of education.” His eyes remained on the framed certificate.

“Your grades were good enough to qualify.” You suggested. You began to scribble notes softly, recalling that he was a patient. That you needed to record this all. 

“I qualified for enlistment, too. They still had to draft me, though. Maybe if those universities had too, I’d be just like you, doc.” He touched the glass of the frame with his real hand. “Maybe I’d have spent the last half of the century at a desk pushing a pen, unaware of all the bullshit in this world.”

“If you could go back and do it that way, would you?”

“Like Steve. Like the hero, huh?” He stepped away from the wall and kept his back to you. “He was always braver than me, or I thought so. What kind of bravery is it just haul ass back to the past? I didn’t ask him to keep me out of prison, to keep Stark from killing me, but he did that out of his vainglorious honour. Then he left me and where was his honour then?”

He kicked the couch with a grunt and crossed his arms. You watched him as he kept his face hidden from you. He paced along the far wall, back and forth as he steamed.

“You’re mad at Steve for leaving?”

“No.” 

“But you _are _mad.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m stuck here. With you, talking about…nonsense.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I have to be.”

“No, Bucky,” You stood slowly and set aside your notepad. “Why are you here?”

He stopped and turned to you. He crossed the room until he was right before you, glaring down. His lips twitched but he quickly pressed them together and shook his head. He scoffed.

“Because I always do what I’m told.” He backed away until he was right before the couch. He sat and clamped his hands down on his knees. “Like a good soldier.”

-

The sessions turned to silence. A pattern at first. Each a face off between you and Bucky. Vague answers, if any. Then he stopped talking at the end of the first month. You sat, talking to the walls of your office,no response as he checked his watch and waited. But you didn’t stop. 

As he sat, you took your notes and went over them after he left. The bulk of his issues were intertwined with deep post-traumatic stress and feeling of abandonment. Not just that Steve left him, but that he’d been left to Hydra for decades without a thought. A sense of powerlessness left him wanting control and the one thing he could control was his own voice. He told you what he wanted and the rest, he kept to himself.

After your last meeting, you poured yourself a glass of wine and stared at the blank page. You’d acted as if you’d been writing but the pen was dead and merely left embossed scribbles in the paper. He was your only new patient so far and the others didn’t have any problem talking. If anything, they talked too much. They didn’t stop and reflect on what they said, even when prompted.

You set aside the leather folder and packed it away. You finished the warm red wine and left the glass beside the sink in your small bathroom. You pulled on the plaid blazer hung over your desk chair and hooked your bag over your shoulder. The New York sky was dark outside your window. You couldn’t spend another night in your office.

You hailed a cab and watched the blur of the city. Your little walk-up beckoned you inside and you dropped your bag atop your disposed shoes. You stopped inside the living room. Dark and grim. You flipped the switch and the antique sconces shone deep yellow in the small room. Empty.

The mug you’d left on the coffee table was still there and the book you tried to read was closed and forgotten on the corner. Everything was in order and yet it felt as if something was different. As if someone had been there before you. You walked the perimeter but found nothing amiss. Nothing but the tickle at the base of your skull.

You removed your blazer and folded it over the back of the armchair. The summer was fading and autumn slowly crept up in the evenings. You sat on the couch and took the book from the corner of the table. 

It looked worn though you still hadn’t gotten more than halfway through. Though every time you opened it, the spine seemed weaker as if you’d been contorting it to fit your hand. But it didn’t fit your hand. Not quite. 

You dropped it and sat back. You were due to see Bucky again at the end of the week. You’d seen him a couple times beyond your office. In the halls with his co-workers, with the authority he disdained so much.

You didn’t know how to get through to him. Couldn’t, you were sure. Perhaps, you didn’t need to. Maybe he only needed to._ How could you ever help a man who wouldn’t help himself?_

You brushed aside your flurry of thoughts. You weren’t at work. Your notepad stayed in your bag and rarely did you mull over it at home. It was too easy to let it consume you.

You clicked on the television and laid back. The white noise filled your ears and you closed your eyes. Tomorrow. Maybe the day after. You’d figure something out.

-

Friday. You were due for your next session with Bucky that afternoon. The tower was at a peak, the crowds flurried in and out of the revolving doors as you opted for those doors hidden at the side of the building.

You stopped by the small kiosk that sold overpriced caffeine and ordered some seasonal favourite with an extra shot of espresso. You dropped a tip in the bowl as your eyes fixed on the gift shop nestled between the newspaper stand and a tiny realty office. The lobby was a microcosm of the city itself.

You’d never been in the shop despite having passed by it for several years. You took your cup and crossed to the little store. You stepped inside and nodded at the cashier who didn’t seem to notice you over their phone screen. You glossed over the shelves of stuffed bears and dogs, beyond the trail mix and tees, to the small rack of notebooks in the back corner.

You took a small one and ran your finger over the hide cover. Lined pages and a single ribbon to keep your place. A loop inside the cover with a pen through it. It would be a start. You went to the counter and purchased the overpriced journal. In the scheme of life,_ what was a few dollars?_

You tucked the book into your bag and sipped from your latte carefully. You wove through the lobby of people and stepped onto the packed elevator. The ascent was slow and tense. The bodies lessened with each floor and along with two others, you departed on the top floor.

Your first patient for the day was a press secretary still struggling to make sense of the world after the blip. Along with everything else, the media had changed and so not only her life, but her work had transformed with the dusting. She was slowly regaining her feet and her position in Stark Tower, learning from her former apprentice who had taken her place during those long years.

When she left, quite happily, you sat at your desk and shuffled through your folders. Despite your early successes of the day, you dreaded your next client. Bucky was never easy to decipher and time didn’t help that. Each time you saw him, it only seemed harder to get through to him.

You rose to stretch your legs and filled a carafe with water and set it on the round table beside the couch, two glasses with it. You peered out the window as taxis honked below and the streets glared in the afternoon sunlight. You went back to your desk and sat, a folder open before you but unread. You couldn’t focus. Not lately.

_Was it you?_ Something was off. The order of your life, established after the devastation of that singular day, had dissolved in its undoing. Chaos returned when the world had. The change was so subtle you couldn’t place it. Every room you walked into seemed amiss, disordered and yet nothing was different. All was as it should be. Or looked to be.

A knock came at the door and jolted you. You straightened in your chair and called to the frosted glass. “Come in.” You watched the handle turn, the broad shoulders as they entered, the head of dark hair pulled back lazily, the observant blue eyes as they found you at your desk. “Good afternoon.”

Bucky only grumbled as he closed the door behind him. He stood by it, daring not to come any further. This was how it always began. His reluctance kept him unsettled. He’d hover there by the exit, hoping for his dismissal, then he’d pace, trapped in his cage. Silent, almost unresponsive as your words bounced off his stony veneer.

“Water?” You offered. He followed your gesture to the pitcher and shook his head. He shoved his hands in his pockets and his eyes explored the room. By now, he knew every inch of the place. “Will you sit?”

You waved to the seat across from you and he squinted. He tapped his toe and tore his hands from his jeans. He shrugged and crossed the office to sit where you bid. Not a word. A defiant obedience. He’d sit, he’d act the part, but he wouldn’t give you anything.

“Our session will be short today, but you will have homework,” You began. “Mr. Hogan called me last night. I’ve been sitting here staring at these.” You took the stapled pages from the top of your mess. “Go on.” You urged as you held them out.

He took the paper and read quietly. His thumb went to his mouth but he resisted the urge to chew it. He forced his hand down and tossed the forms back on his desk. “You haven’t signed off.”

“I haven’t.” You confirmed. “But I will. I want you to know why I’m signing them.”

“To get rid of me.” He stated. 

“No. Not that. Because you won’t be rid of me,” You assured him. “As it says, I will only approve your return to the field with the mandated sessions still in place.”

“Impossible. I’ll be away. Can’t say for how long. Missions are…unpredictable.”

“So we will schedule around them. This unpredictability is exactly why we need to continue.”

He stared at you. His nostrils flared and he leaned back in the chair, his fingers twined across his stomach as he rested his elbows on the wooden arms. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Well, you haven’t done much of that, have you?” You bent and pulled your bag closer behind the desk. You reached into it and took out the notebook. “So, I don’t want you to talk. I want you to write.”

You set the notebook down before him. He sniffed and his eyes focused on the journal.

“For you, not me. Write whatever you want to. Make a grocery list, write a poem, a story, put your thoughts down, draw a picture. But put something in there.” You explained as you stood and reached across for the pitcher. 

You filled a glass and sat down to sip it. He looked up at you. He watched the way your throat contracted as you drank and you placed the glass down before your hand could shake. Something about the way he looked at you was startling.

“You want me to keep a diary?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” You allowed. “It’s all for you. I will never ask what you’ve written in it or any secrets you hide inside of. I’ll only want assurance that you’ve been using it. That’s all. Simple enough?”

He pursed his lips and took the notebook from the desk. He flipped through the untouched pages and sighed. “Will you sign off?” He lifted his gaze to you.

You grabbed a pen and the forms. You flipped to the third page, scribbled across the line and added the date. You slid them back across the desk. “There. Take ‘em to Happy and he’ll get you started.”

He blinked. His hand tightened on the journal as he stared at the papers. “We’re done?”

“For today,” You said and stood. “I suppose you’ll be deployed sooner than later. Don’t forget the notebook. We’ll arrange a session upon your return.”

He tapped his thumb on the notebook and reached for the forms. He stood and held them together in his hands. “And if I don’t return?” You looked at him but didn’t say anything. He nodded and chuckled darkly. “You’re right, I always come back, don’t I?”

“A single line a day is better than nothing.” You told him as you rounded the desk. He followed closely as you neared the door and turned back to him with your hand on the knob. He was nearer than you expected. “Manageable.”

“I’ll be fighting. Killing. Should I write in blood?” He challenged wryly.

You sighed. “If that is what you need to do…”

“I’m kidding.” He shook his head.

“I realize that, Mr. Barnes.”

“Bucky,” He corrected as he did every time you called him by his surname. 

“Bucky.” You turned the handle and pulled open the door. You stepped back as you did if only to escape the unyielding warmth radiating from him. The smirk that peeked through was unsettling. The way his eyes followed you like a prey. “Don’t hesitate to stop in on your return. Or any time. My office is always open.”

The smirk broke through entirely and he rubbed his thumb along the notebook as he peered through the door. “Alright, doc.” He turned and stepped into the doorway. He paused and looked back as he raised the papers and journal in half-salute. “Thanks.”

With that, he left you. You closed the door behind him and exhaled. It might’ve been too soon but keeping him pent up and prodding him incessantly was doing him little good. Perhaps a mission would open his eyes. Shake him. Make him realize that five years in the ether had changed him further and exacerbated the untouched issues that had consumed him before. Or maybe, he _would_ get himself killed.

You knew that wouldn’t be the case. He might be reckless and self-loathing but something deep inside had kept him hanging on. He wanted to live, you knew that but he didn’t. And that was the core of his issues.

-

**Bucky**

There was an odd rush of nerves as Bucky sat in the jet. It was like the day he’d gotten the letter. The day he was drafted. The day he decided his life was over. And it was. His former life cracked down the middle and it would never be the same again. Dead or alive, it was over.

Sam sat beside him, strapped in, arms crossed, eyes closed as he softly snored. They had hours to go before they landed. Bucky was restless. It wasn’t unusual. He didn’t sleep much since his return. Since Steve had said goodbye. That short, heartless goodbye.

He shifted in his seat and unbuckled the belt. He stood, arms out to keep him from swaying with the motion of the flight. He rounded his chair and went to the luggage bay to fetch his canvas duffel. He unzipped it and the notebook rested atop his gear, as if waiting for him. He took it and sealed up the bag and tossed it back in its place.

He sat but didn’t buckle in. The flight was smooth to this point and he’d survived worse than a little turbulence. He held the notebook closed as he looked up to the cockpit. The windshield cut through the dark clouds. He clenched his jaw as he looked down at the hide cover. Already, his fingerprints were worn into the journal.

He was reluctant to open it that first day but after tossing and turning for a few hours in bed, he turned on a lamp and cracked the spine. He tried to write his life story but couldn’t get past the first line, then he’d tried to recount his friendship with Steve but that made his stomach churn. Then, on the fifth page, he’d started drawing.

It was a poor caricature but to him, it resembled her. The doctor with her stern expressions and her piercing eyes. She always looked at him as if she were reading him. As if she could see right through him. He hated that. He wanted her to close those fucking eyes. To stop looking at him. Stop asking him her stupid questions.

The next page was a schedule. A date marked the top and hours kept track of her movements. Several hours in her office, patients and co-workers dropped in now and then, and occasionally, she ventured out to get a coffee or snack. He followed her home. 

He’d been there before that. Several times. He knew about the book on her coffee table, the unwashed mug in her sink, and the toys hidden in her top drawer. He also knew about that folder she had on him. If she was to know everything about him, he only deserved the same. To know every facet of her almost hermit-like existence. Outside of work, she lived a lonely life. Pathetic.

After she’d signed his papers and given him the book, he thought of her more often and so found himself tailing her almost daily. It was a game in his mind. It made him laugh. She was so unaware, so naive. It was so easy for him and she didn’t even have a clue. Didn’t know that he was in the next aisle of the grocery store or just on the other side of her window.

And it made him feel good. Dared to think, though he quickly pushed away the thought, that it gave him a purpose. A focus for the storm inside of him. She was right, he was angry. Time and again, he’d was left to rust like an old shovel. And he was only good for one thing. The monstrosity attached to his left shoulder was his only use. 

A degree on her wall couldn’t make her understand that. Couldn’t make her understand him. She could pretend to know but she never would. She didn’t know pain, didn’t know loss, didn’t know the resent that burned in his chest. She didn’t, but he could show her.

The notebook fell open in his hands as he snapped back to the present. To the humming jet and his snoring comrade. He glanced down at the journal in his lap. His poor rendering of her face stared back at him. He felt it again. The nervousness. He clapped the notebook shut and cleared his throat.

He warily looked around. Sam was still out and the pilot distracted by his flight plan. Bucky let the pages flutter open again. He slid his finger along the inside of the cover and pushed the pen from its loop. He turned to a fresh page and ran his hand over the paper. He relished the possibility on the blank surface.

He pressed the top to paper and his hand moved without thought.

-

**Reader**

It was two weeks since your last session with Bucky. He was away on a mission; top secret. Intelligence not for the likes of a company therapist. It gave you a much needed break. You barely looked forward to his return, not even certain if he’d check-in willingly. He’d have an excuse now; work, training, briefings, reconnaissance. Another tug-of-war to be had.

You got to the tower, your eyes still heavy with sleep, and yawned on your elevator ride. You didn’t have any appointments that day but paperwork and the recovery program funded by Stark Industries was enough to keep you busy. A quiet day in your office was something to relish.

Your office door was unlocked. Odd. You were meticulous about securing it nightly. Your own issues of paranoia and safety. When you worked at the inner-city youth centre, a lock was your best friend. One night, one lapse, it was nothing. You were tired and the nights weren’t growing any easier.

You only opened the door a few inches before it was pulled the rest of the way. You were stunned to find Bucky on the other side. Speechless. You righted yourself quickly.

“Mr. Barnes.” You greeted him. “You’re back.”

“Doc,” He waited for you to enter. “You said you’re door was always open.”

“Locked when I’m away, I believe,” You stepped inside warily. “Was it not?”

“Picking a lock isn’t so hard,” He assured you. “I got tired of waiting in the hall.”

“How was your mission?” You changed the subject. His tone suggested an urge for confrontation. You wouldn’t feed it. His intrusion in itself was a cry for conflict.

“A mission.” He closed the door. The lock clicked. You didn’t show that you noticed. “The usual.”

“When did you get back?” You went to your desk and set your bag down behind it. You removed your jacket and passed him again to hang it on the rack. His own was on a peg already.

“Just this morning. Before sunrise.”

“And you came here first?”

“No.” His footsteps moved from hardwood to carpet. “Not first.”

You turned and looked around. His notebook was on your desk, beside an open folder. You glanced at him as he watched your eyes flit around the room. He stood just beside the desk.

“Can we talk?” He asked. You were surprised by the question.

“Of course,” You assured him. “Would you like some tea? Coffee? It’s early, I usually–”

“I want to talk,” He insisted. “Will you sit?”

He waved to your green chair. He was only feet away from it, just between it and your desk. He was determined. He had something to say. It seemed like progress.

“Alright,” You crossed the room and sat. You were stiff and straight in the chair. 

He didn’t sit himself. He turned and closed the folder. He took it and turned back to you. 

“Do you think this is me?” He held it up. “This shit? This list of orders? What they made me do?” He dropped the folder in your lap and it nearly fell to the floor before you could catch it. “None of it is me. My decisions. My actions.”

“I know that,” You assured him as you held the folder steady. “I never said, nor thought, that it was.”

“No, what you said, what you wrote,” He reached over and picked up another sheet. Your writing scrawled across it. “‘Issues of defiance… combative… compensation for loss of control.”

You stared at him. He was visibly angry, his voice was like a razor. 

“These are not bad things, merely observations. To help you.”

“I didn’t say you were wrong,” He crumpled the paper up and threw it so it bounced off your chest. “I do have issues…with control.” He retreated and grabbed his notebook from the desk. “I don’t like being controlled but I do like control.”

He neared as he opened the journal and turned it to you. He held it out until you took it. You looked up at him. “I don’t want to read this. It’s yours.”

“Read it.” He growled.

You slowly glanced down and your eyes skimmed the page. A roster of times, places, and activities. Your office number, your address, an account of your route home. Below a full detail of your day. Your heart felt as if it stopped and you gulped as you let the notebook close and lowered it to your lap.

“Just that for now,” He bent and took the book from you, the folder too. “Don’t want you reading too far. That would spoil all my plans.”

He set the folder and journal down on the round table beside your chair. You stood. You felt weak.

“Mr. Barnes, you should go.” You stated. He chuckled.

“Sit down.” He said quietly.

“Mr. Barnes–”

“My name is Bucky.” His voice rose suddenly. “And I said ‘sit down’. Now.”

“Bucky, you need to go or I will be forced to report this–”

“To who? Hmm? If they even believe you, what are they going to do? Fire me? Fine. All the better. I don’t need handlers. And that won’t keep me from you.”

“I could have you arrested.” You didn’t move.

“You can try. What exactly could I be charged with? You think you’ll get out of here with that?” He pointed to the journal and you peered past him to the door. “You think you can even get around me, doc?”

You looked at him again. He gripped your shoulder with his vibranium hand and leaned in. 

“So, doc, you gonna sit or did you need some help?”

You relented, though your knees buckled easily without thought. You sat as he released you and backed away. You clasped your hands together and watched him as he neared the couch. He sat with a smirk and stared back at you.

“So, I want to talk about control and my issues,” He began. “Is that good? I’m talking.”

You nodded but couldn’t find your voice. You could barely breathe.

“You know, I was thinking about it. On my mission, ya know?” He spoke easily. Taunting you. “I’d much rather kill a man with my hands than a gun. That’s real control. To rip a life away from someone else with one’s own hands and not some disposable weapon. To see the light fade away because you willed it so.”

You struggled to keep from trembling. He stared you down, challenging you to look away. You kept your eyes on him if only to keep from getting dizzy. Slowly, he let his gaze drift and he sat back as his focus descended.

“Take your blazer off.” He ordered. “Get comfy, doc, we got a lot of talking to do today.”

“Mr–Bucky,” You hissed. “Really, this is–”

“Off.” He snapped his fingers. “Everything.”

You blanched. You pushed your legs together and crossed your arms protectively. “You don’t want to do this. This isn’t…you.”

“You don’t know me, doc, but I know you,” He said. “So go on and let me see what’s hiding under that little costume you wear every day.”

You blinked. He didn’t flinch but you did. You looked to the door. 

“Ah,” He warned. “You’re either going to comply or I’ll tear it off myself.”

You lowered your eyes. He’d won. You slid to the edge of the chair and pulled of your blazer. You stood and laid it over the table atop the notebook. You couldn’t face him entirely as you bent to unzip your heeled boots. You set them aside with your socks and straightened to unbutton your blouse. You put it with your blazer and undid your fly. Your pants fell to the floor almost without guidance. You bent to gather them and placed them on the pile. You stood and stared at the floor.

“Everything, doc,” Bucky said. “As cute as those little panties are…”

Eyes down, your head felt like a brick, you trembled just a bit as you reached back to unclasp your bra. It loosened and you let it fall down your arms. You tossed it onto the table without looking. Your fingers clenched the grey cotton and you willed yourself onward.

You should scream. You inhaled but a tut kept your voice within. “You scream and I’ll break your jaw.”

You peeked up at him. He’d sat forward, ready to rise, ready to charge you and snap your neck with a flick of his wrist. You dragged your panties down and stepped out of them. You looked away and dropped them on the table.

“Now you can sit,” His tone lightened. Almost a song. “And we can continue, doc.” He paused. “Wait, you need to take notes or something?”

You shook your head and locked your legs together as you crossed your arms. You forced yourself to look at him. He sank back against the couch with his arms stretched across the back. 

“Tell me about the man you killed.” You prompted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Bucky’s a bastard, control, PTSD and other lovely mental issues, noncon (forced masturbation and oral)
> 
> This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a three-parter because I’m a goddamn liar, y’all. But I hope you guys like this. Love y’all.
> 
> Anyway :) Please leave a kudos and or comment if you can and I look forward to the next and final chapter! <3

**Bucky**

Bucky liked to watch her squirm. She tried not to but the little tic in her finger and the way she scrunched her brow gave her away. It was amusing to watch her try to act like it was all normal. Naked and vulnerable in her chair.

She was resistant that day. Their first session after his first mission, she’d been compliant. So shocked she couldn’t think to fight him. Now she’d had time to think but not long enough. Her blouse was torn on the floor beside her chair, the rest of her clothing strewn around it. She shivered as she slumped over the notepad rested on her crossed legs and listened.

“I leave tomorrow,” He said pointedly and she sat up. She used her notepad to shield herself. 

“For a mission?” She asked.

He nodded. “I know you’re thinking of trying something, why wouldn’t you? But this is your warning, there will be consequences.”

“Bucky, I’ve only ever tried to help you.” She shivered and sat straighter. “Why are you doing this?”

“Aren’t _you_ supposed to figure that out?” He stood. “Those little notes, isn’t there some explanation?”

“No, you’re supposed to work with me through these issues, not against me,” She watched him near. She winced as he stopped before her. There would be bruises where he’d grabbed her. 

“You got something to cover yourself up?” He asked as he reached out to touch her neck. She drew away from him and pressed herself to the back of the chair. “Cause I know you’re a shit liar.”

“I’ll figure it out,” She brushed his hand away and her eyes widened and flicked away from him. He was hard. She could see it. He only just realized it, how painful it was. He backed away. “Can I get dressed now?”

“We still have a few minutes,” He checked his watch and she shifted in her seat. He chuckled quietly and turned back to her. “Ask me nicely this time, doc.”

“May I please get dressed?” She said stiffly.

“Good girl,” The words slipped out and her face tensed. “Yes, get dressed.”

She set aside her notepad and gathered her clothes one at a time as she pulled them on. Her blouse had no buttons left and she kept her blazer closed. She frowned as it did nothing to hide her bra.

“Next time, listen,” He remarked as he turned and walked along her desk.

He reached down to rub his aching crotch. He pulled his hand away and played with the paperweight on the corner, shaped like a crow. He stared at the desk and thought of pushing aside the papers, the little decorations, the pens. Pictured her, for just a second, bent over it. He set the paperweight down.

“Just know,” He crossed the room and took his jacket from the rack. He turned back as she shoved her feet into her heeled boots. “If you do decide to get smart, I will find out.” He pulled on his jacket and flicked the lock of the door. “This…” He swirled his finger in the air, “…can get so much worse for you.”

-

**Reader**

Ten minutes after Bucky left, you took your jacket from the rack and did it up to your chin. He was your last appointment but you were expected at a support meeting that night. You dialed the number and waited for an answer.

“Hey, Mr. Hogan, yeah, no it’s fine. You’re going tonight? Okay, tell Ron I’m sorry, he’s gonna have to walk through the meeting himself. It’s nothing, just an appointment I forgot. Yeah, I have such a full calendar…”

You barely heard Happy as you recited your lies. You just didn’t have the energy. Or the strength. To be entirely honest, you were terrified. Bucky terrified you. Staring at him, entirely bare to his predatory gaze, no escape in sight, your heart raced and you felt the world collapse around you.

You were also embarrassed. Not just by what he made you do but that you’d lost your control as his therapist. You didn’t run the sessions anymore, he did. You’d broken your professionality and even your own integrity. Bent so easily to his will and all because your own fear.

He hurt you that day. You hung up the phone and grabbed your bag as you replayed the scene. He told you to undress. You refused. He repeated himself once and promised he wouldn’t again. You still didn’t. His hand was at your throat in an instant, the tear of fabric jerked your body and filled the air. He shoved you back and you fell into the chair.

You undressed then. He circled you. Got close enough to touch at one point but didn’t. When you were naked, he sat and bid you to do the same. You took your notepad and waited for him to start.

You trembled as you hailed a cab. In your head, you weren’t out on the New York pavement but still trapped in that office. With him.

You paid the driver and hurried up your walk. You locked the front door behind you and looked around your small townhouse. It was a habit now. You inspected everything, locked every door and window them second checked them.

Worse was that, no matter what you did it wouldn’t keep him from following you. From getting in if he wanted to. The realization came and went over and over but you never truly forgot. Bucky Barnes grasped your life in his fist. At a whim, his vibranium fingers could crush you.

You slept on the couch that night. Unintentionally. You dozed off as the tv glared and hummed. You didn’t think you’d be able to sleep at all and your rest was shallow and periodic.

He was leaving that day. He was probably already gone but that only started the timer until his inevitable return.

-

Four days. You heard of Bucky’s return in passing at the tower. You skirted away to your office, half expecting to find him there. It was empty and your second appointment of the day was due in five minutes.

They arrived shortly after and you welcomed them in with your usual courtesy but the rest of the session was spent, peeking over at the door. Waiting for Bucky to burst in and tear the walls down. But he never came. Not during or after. Your third appointment went by just the same and you hesitated to leave for the day.

_Should you wait for him to come and terrorize you?_ Now that was inane. You should go before he decided to drop in. Go home and hide under your covers like the child you felt. _How was it that he made you feel so small when he wasn’t even there?_

Bag in hand, coat slung over your arm, you rushed down into the mid-autumn chill and hailed a cab. You procrastinated to get a new car since your old one had sputtered out. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the money but work had got ahead of you and life had fallen behind. Excuses. Your worst fault. You always had a reason why not and yet your job was to hold others accountable. _How ridiculous._

Front door, locked. A small reassurance to your growing paranoia. You twisted the latch behind you and dropped your coat on the table just inside the table, your bag disposed atop it lazily. You kicked your shoes off and flipped on the lights. You held your breath as the front room lit up. Empty. Another relieved sigh.

You walked carefully around the furniture, as if scared to attract the attention of the beast who wasn’t there. It was difficult at first, almost as if it wasn’t your home anymore. As if your entire existence was being wrenched from you by his metal fist.

You cooked your supper in silence. The clink and clatter of dishes the only noise, the occasional running of water, too. You ate in front of the television, eager to kill the eerie quiet. Some mindless game show, the answers you couldn’t think of but were sure you knew.

You finished and rinsed your dishes before you returned to the couch, shielded by a thin throw, eyes observant and straying. You were almost in a trance. Dread clouded around you in a haze.

You didn’t know how late it was when you found the strength to get off the couch. You climbed the stairs and swept through your bedroom to the closet like bathroom attached to it. You cranked the shower so that it quickly filled the space with steam and undressed as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

There was a fear in your eyes you’d never seen before. A weakness. You weren’t this person. You worked hard for years to achieve your position, you were never one to wilt beneath anothers glare. 

You should have filed a report that day; with the company, with the police. But then you closed your eyes and saw Bucky’s. Heard his promise echo in your head. Lined pockets and badges hadn’t stopped him before and the heroes who had, were gone. And you surely were no match for him.

The rivers ran over your skin and diverged along the peaks and values of your body. You barely felt them. The cleansing you hoped for did not come. You still felt terribly filthy, entirely helpless as you turned off the faucet and shivered in the aftermath. You rubbed dry your hair and wrapped your body in the soft linen.

You had left the door slightly open, the steam dispersed quickly as you pulled it the rest of the way. You nearly stumbled and caught yourself on the door frame as you crossed the threshold to your bedroom. He was there.

His broad shoulders faced you as he stood beside your bed. His dark head was lowered as he stirred around in your night table. Your breath caught and you glanced at the door which led to the hallway. Then at your barely covered body.

“Busy day. Missed you at the tower.” He said without looking back at you. “Sit down, will you?”

You didn’t move. He huffed and raised his head. He leaned back and pushed his shoulders apart.

“You know I’ll make you sit, so just do it.” He warned.

You neared the bed and turned. You sat on the end of the bed and waited, listening to him snooping around in your drawer. Your skin was on fire. You knew what was in there and he’d no doubt found it by now. He was toying with you.

“Lose the towel,” He said as he spun around and you felt him get closer.

You stood to pull the fabric from beneath you and he tugged it away from you swiftly. He rounded you and stopped before you. You kept your eyes on the floor. You wanted to cover yourself but that had grown futile by now. He’d seen your body; human and flawed.

He brought his hand up before your face. Your eyes almost crossed as you looked up at the small silver device in his hand. You blanched and blinked at your hidden pleasure. Your little vibe, ‘bullet’, it had said on the package. _How appropriate that was the one he chose._

“I want you to use it.” He said plainly. You heard his smirk but didn’t look up at it.

“Why are you doing this, Bucky? It’s not going to solve anything. You’re only making it worse. This is escapism, not resolution.”

“Use it,” He took your hand from your lap and shoved the toy into it. “I thought we were trying to open up to each other, doc.” He slowly backed away. “So go on, open up.”

You turned the toy between your fingers. Your thumb ran across the small black button at its base and you chewed the inside of your lip. Your legs were like stone, heavy and hard to move. Bucky’s breaths, quiet but deafening amid the silence, urged you on.

Your hand shook as you rested in on your thigh and forced your legs apart a little at a time. You bit down painfully and tasted the blood. Your vision blurred but you wouldn’t let the tears fall. You slid the toy along your thigh and clicked the button. The whir of the tiny motor buzzed against you.

You crept up and felt as if your body would give out. As if every muscle would split and you’d be left in a heap before him. But that didn’t happen and when the vibe traced along your pelvis you inhaled sharply. You slipped it just along your lips and froze. Mortified at the sudden rush of heat to that one spot.

“A woman you’re age should be married, shouldn’t she?” Bucky’s voice shook you, the toy just above that sacred bud. “Or have somebody?”

You stopped and looked up at him. His gaze was focused between your legs. Eager and expectant.

“Divorced. Just…didn’t work out.”

“And did you buy those before or after the divorce?” He asked.

“Some before, some after,” You replied.

“Go on,” He nodded. “Don’t stop ‘til you’re done. Understood?”

You looked down again. Humiliated. “Yes.”

You pressed the metal tip between your lips and braced the mattress with your other hand. The vibrations radiated from your clit down your thighs. You breathed out your nose loudly and lowered your chin to hide your face. Out of habit, you swirled the vibe around your bud and your entire body tense.

_Was it better to resist and hold onto to your integrity or fold and have it done and over with? _You struggled against yourself. It wasn’t long before you were wet. Before the tide grew unbearable and overwhelming. You were ready to drown in it, your nails dug into the blanket and your legs quaked.

You sensed a shadow, felt the cold fingers on your chin. Bucky forced your face up and you squeezed your eyes shut. “Look at me.” He demanded.

You reluctantly obeyed and met his startling blue irises. Your lips parted and your hand worked without thinking. Almost there. You choked on the moan that rose and snapped your mouth shut. The ripples flowed and left you trembling. His hand dropped down to your throat and tightened as he held you in place, watching you fall apart before him.

The vibe slipped from your fingers and you grasped his wrist. As the after waves twisted and turned, he released you and tore his arm away. You fell back on the bed and pushed your legs together. You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly curled into a ball. Reality fell down like hail around you and battered your skin.

“Think we should have a session tomorrow doc?” He paced around the end of the bed. “Hmm? Noon work for you?”

You stayed silent and covered your face. You could barely think. Barely focus on his taunts.

“If it doesn’t,” He came around and dragged your hand from over your face as he bent over you. “Make it work.”

He dropped your arm and turned away. You closed your eyes and listened to his footsteps pass through the door, fade down the hallway and along the stairs. You didn’t move. You weren’t sure you could. You just languished, numb and yet feeling all at once.

-

You cancelled your meeting with Ron at noon. It was a simple walk through of the next support group and as of late he’d been content to run them on his own. And you were content to let him. So forgetful that your calendar was the only order left in your life.

He didn’t knock. He entered and lock the door as he had the last two times. You looked up from your desk as he strolled in and plopped into the chair across from you.

“Are we going to talk today, Bucky?” You challenged.

“You really think that’s still going to happen? That it would help?” He scoffed and leaned back, his knees wide as he planted his feet.

“I do think it would help.”

“Did it help Steve?” He asked pointedly. “Did he tell you he was leaving?”

“I wasn’t his therapist. Besides, if I was, confidentiality would preclude me from–”

“You weren’t his therapist?” He tilted his head and smirked, just a little. “Something else?”

“We were colleagues. I helped him set up support for those left behind.” You explained evenly. “Our relationship was professional.”

“Maybe you _should’ve _been his therapist.” Bucky mused.

“Steve didn’t think there was a place for him here. He was wrong but you must know he wasn’t very good at admitting that.” You set down your pen. “There’s a place for all of us.”

“Jesus, do they teach you these little bullshit platitudes in school or are you really just that stupid?”

“The hardest part of dealing with our issues is admitting we have them at all. Steve didn’t want to face this world anymore, didn’t want anymore challenges. And you–.” You paused and tapped your fingers nervously on your open notepad.

“I what?” He urged.

“You think taking control, too much control, will make up for your loss of control in the past. You don’t want to slow down and let the world, let time, do its work. You don’t want to admit that you’re afraid.”

“Neither do you,” He countered. “Hmm. You sit there, you chew on your lip, you hide your face, try to hide your body, and you think I can’t see that your scared.”

“Does it make you feel better? Truly? What you’re doing?” He stayed silent and his smirk disappeared. “Does it remind you of what they did? A role reversal maybe? You try to control my body like they did yours.”

“Enough!” He kicked the desk suddenly and you jumped. “I’m not _trying_ to control you, I am.”

“Bucky–”

“I told you I didn’t want to talk.” He spat.

“Then what do you want?”

His metal fist balled and his other hand slipped to his thigh. His fingers crawled upward and he palmed his crotch and shifted in his chair.

“I want you on your knees.” He snarled.

You cringed and sat back in defeat. “It’s not too late to stop this…to try.”

“You can get on your knees or I can hold you down and fuck your face until you puke all over that pretty little blouse.” He undid his fly and slid his hand in his jeans. “I’m done playing your game. You’re gonna play mine.”

You wrung your hands for a moment before you caught yourself. He didn’t miss the hint of your anxiety, the drawn line of your lips as you held back a sneer. Your fear mixed with a sense of anger. You weren’t an angry person but you felt the unusual creep of red in your chest.

The standoff ended quickly. You rose, hands on the desk to steady yourself, just a second before you stood on your own two feet. You rounded to him as he watched. His gaze never strayed, his victorious leer followed your every move. Every single step of your surrender.

You stopped before him, closed in between him and the desk. You looked down at him as he pulled apart his fly and guided his cock out from the denim and cotton. You lowered your head and your shoulders dropped.

“Bucky…” You pleaded.

He leaned forward and grabbed your hand. He stretched his vibranium palm across your hand and jerked you closer. You were forced to bend as he pressed your hand to his hardened length. You flinched and he pushed your fingers taut around his shaft.

“It is too late,” He said. “I made up my mind a while ago.”

Your knees buckled and you almost swayed. You stared at your hand and knelt before him. You were forced between his legs as the desk was close behind you. He drew his hand away and gripped the arms of the chair.

“Go on. I trust you know what you’re doing…unless that’s why the marriage didn’t work out?”

You recoiled and he growled. You glared up at him defiantly. “Don’t.” You warned him.

“Don’t?” He grinned. “What are you going to do about it?”

You stared back at him darkly. He leaned forward and grabbed your head with both hands. He pulled you close and your hands clapped against his thighs as he forced your head down.

“Open up that damn mouth before I break your jaw. I’m tired of listening to it.”

His cock pressed against your lips and he didn’t relent. You couldn’t turn your head away, couldn’t escape his vibranium grasp. So you opened your mouth and he pushed you down entirely. You gagged as he shoved himself down your throat. You grabbed his thighs desperately, unable to breathe, as he held you there.

You kicked your feet behind you and he finally eased up. Just enough for your to pull back but keeping his cock in your mouth. You gasped around him and he forced you back down. 

“Don’t you go passing out now. That won’t stop me.”

You shuddered and let him guide you. He was big enough that your jaw began to throb in pain and your throat felt shredded from his repeated intrusion. You never quite caught your breath as your saliva dripped down his dick. You felt sick. Disgusted by him, by yourself, by your weakness.

His groans rose and chilled you. Added to the nausea as it boiled in your stomach. The salty taste of him made you gag again but he only delighted in the contraction of your throat. All you could hear were his treacherous growls and the revolting gulping of your mouth.

“You don’t know how much you’re helping me, doc.” He said. You almost stopped as his voice startled you but he kept you going. Faster, faster. Your entire head swelled in agony. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His fingers rubbed circles along your scalp, still tight around your skull, ready to crush it at one misstep.

“I already feel better. More in control. Clearer.” He purred. “I see the world before me and it’s all thanks to you.”

Your eyes watered as he sped up again and gave you no chance to keep up. Your head spun with each descent along his thick cock.

“I see you bent over that desk. On the couch. On the floor.” He rasped. “I see it all. My hands around your throat as I use you so easily.”

He sighed and shivered.

“I’m in control again. I’m myself again.” He grunted suddenly and squeezed your head between his hands.

The warmth filled your mouth and choked you as it slid down your throat, his cock pounding his cum deeper and deeper. Then he stopped. He pulled you off of him and dropped you like a forgotten doll as your body crumpled beneath you. You coughed and spat his cum onto the floor with a heave.

You got to your knees and crawled around the desk blindly. You stood as you heard a zip, sensed his shadow as he stood and you felt your way into the small bathroom just along the wall. You nearly fell inside and caught yourself on the sink. You retched into the porcelain, your entire body spasmed as it revolted.

“Don’t forget to tick the box, doc,” He called from the office. You looked over as he pulled the hem of his tee straight. “Think maybe we should see each other more often. Since we’re making such good progress.”

“Get out,” You pushed yourself away from the sink and turned to slam the door. You locked it and backed away dizzily. You fell down onto the toilet and gripped your temples. You could feel his hands still, slowly caving in your skull.

“I know you got a full schedule tomorrow,” He said from the other side of the door. “Maybe we can arrange an after hours session again.” He chuckled and you heard the small taps as he walked his fingers down the door. “We should…fit something in before my next mission.”

You didn’t answer and waited for him to leave. You listened to his ominous footfalls in your office, the open and close of the door, the frightful silence that followed. 

You looked down at your shaky hands, spittle and cum dried along the front of your blouse. Your stomach churned and you stood to grip the sink again. You didn’t stop until you were empty and weak. As hollow as the shell you’d become.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Bucky’s a bastard, control, PTSD and other lovely mental issues, noncon (oral, toyplay, restraints, vaginal and anal sex)
> 
> This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just taking a break from Tapestry for a day or two. I wanted to finish this little series first. This is just all the kink and darkness so enjoy. Love you all.
> 
> Anyway :) Please leave a comment and/or kudos if you read.

Bucky didn’t show the next day. Even as you finished up with your last patient and waited around an hour. You laughed at yourself sardonically after you’d sat back and realized what you were waiting for. You expected to find him in your bedroom again but he wasn’t there either. He was definitely in control. Not just of the sessions, but your life.

It was the day after when he came around. Your last appointment was at three and you were free by four. You didn’t think to linger. You pulled on your jacket and grabbed your bag. You left behind your leather folder. You wanted to hide for as long as you could. Just until he came to haunt you again.

He was there in the lobby. You spotted him the moment you stepped off the elevator and he saw you too. You could tell he’d been expecting you. You tried to act as if you hadn’t seen him but there was no pretending with him. He reached the front doors before you and blocked the revolving escape. You slid to a halt on your wedged boots.

“It’s shitty out,” He said. “You need a ride?”

“No,” You glanced past him. “I’ll catch a train.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like a question.” He chuckled. “We’ve got a stop to make before we hit your little hole.”

“And if I refuse? Huh? You gonna hit me in front of all these people? You gonna drag me out kicking and screaming?”

“I won’t have to do that.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “One minute, let me turn the sound off here.” 

He flicked his finger across the screen before he turned it to you. You watched yourself on the screen, the uneven angle as the lens peeked out above a stretch of fabric; likely his pocket. It was you with your little silver bullet against your clit. The camera got closer and only your moans could be heard as the focus blurred between your bodies, the flash of his vibranium hand blocked it.

“Seems unprofessional to me,” He smirked. “I think Happy might agree. Maybe the licensing board too.”

You stared at him and reached to zip up your thick jacket. You nodded to him and pushed away his phone. “Just...let’s go.”

He leaned in as he tucked the phone away, “Good girl.” He slithered and your skin crawled. 

He backed away and waved you after him. You sighed and followed as he led you to another door. This one led to the attached garage along the side of the tower. He didn’t wait but strolled decisively through it and down the steps to the tarmac. You held the rail as your boots threatened to catch on the stairs.

A dark blue car chirped as he neared it and he opened the door. He dropped inside and you pulled open the passenger side door as he turned the engine. You slipped your bag in front of the seat as you sat and shut the door with a click. He backed out of his spot before you even had a chance to do up your seat belt.

“Can I ask where we’re going?” You ventured.

“You can,” He kept one hand on the wheel as he leaned casually on the console. “But you won’t have your answer til we get there.”

You bit down and lowered your chin. He was drawing it out as long as he could. Whatever he had planned. Whatever new humiliation he had devised. And you had no choice but to bear it. To feed from the hand that would close around your throat and choke the life from you. And if that failed, it would wrought the destruction of the little you held dear.

You kept your eyes down as he drove. The city was pale and lifeless as winter descended upon the fluorescent giants. The street lights loomed over the sidewalks and the mailboxes formed little hills beneath the snowy blanket. You touched your forehead as your vision blurred. The grim vision of the urban sprawl made it all too real.

When he pulled into the small plaza, you were confused. The little convenience store that advertised the lotto jackpot and Marlboro's was nothing special and you doubted he was taking you to the small Vietnamese eatery for dinner. Your eyes found the darkened shop nestled in the corner; a red sign flashing above _XXX._ No way.

“Out,” He turned off the car as he reached for the door handle. “Stop dragging your ass. I’d like to be out of this shit before it’s past my ankle.”

You climbed out of the car but forgot your bag on the floor. You tucked your hands in your pockets as the flakes gathered in your hair. He rounded the front of the car and whistled to you like a dog as he marched to the tinted windows of the sex shop. You shook your head and trailed after him.

You caught the door behind him and let it close heavily. You looked around at the mannequins in lingerie, the silicon and rubber toys lined along the shelves, and the explicit covers of porno DVDs. A woman with bright red hair greeted you from behind the counter and Bucky returned her cheerful hello. You stayed quiet and followed him.

You weren’t a prude but the last time you’d been to place like this was with your ex-husband. Nothing special, some lube and a cockring for him. You had mulled over a leather garter with studs but left empty-handed. A pathetic attempt to revive a dead relationship.

Bucky grabbed a mesh basket from the stack next to the counter and led you to the wall, though he seemed to have forgotten about you. He tilted his head at the vibes and narrowed his eyes. 

“I doubt you need anymore,” He scoffed.

He moved on and stopped sharply at the next display. He unhooked a leather crop and waved it through the air. He dropped it in the basket and you stared at its handle sticking out. He grabbed another item; a leather collar and matching leash, and added some straps to slip beneath a mattress.

“Bucky…” You said quietly as you grabbed the basket. “You don’t want to do this.”

He grinned and licked his bottom lip as he turned to you. “You don’t know what I want but I can show you.” His blue eyes bore into you. “You want me to deal with my control issues, this is how I deal, doc. And beneath all your repression, I know you want it. Your top drawer can’t hide it.”

You cringed and threw your hands up. “Call it therapy but it’s not that. This isn’t coping, this isn’t addressing the issue, this is feeding it. It won’t help.”

“You’re off the clock, doc,” He carried on along the shelf. “Give it up.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. You tried to avoid looking at the toys, instead focusing on the price tags; pretended it was a grocery store or anywhere else. You looked up as he grab a set of plugs and quickly lowered your gaze again. He stopped and turned back to you.

“You wanna pick out some lube,” He still had the plugs in his hand; a kit, smallest to largest. “You’ll thank me for it later.”

He dropped them in the basket with the rest and spun back to the merchandise. You took a deep breath and glanced around. You crossed to the pyramid display of lubes; hot and cold, flavoured, scented, sensitive skin… The red-haired woman grinned at you as you peeked over at you and you smiled shyly and turned back to the oils.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” She asked as she neared.

“No, I… I have a sensitive ecosystem,” You offered. “Don’t really know what to pick.”

“Something water-based,” She advised as she reached to the rack. “This stuff’s good. It’s flavoured but shouldn’t cause any issues.” She smirked and looked over as Bucky scratched his head before a shelf of dildos. “Does he prefer sweets?”

“I guess,” You answered softly. “I’ll just take the strawberry. Everyone likes strawberry, right?”

“He seems open to a lot,” She commented. “You get half-off this brand with the plugs anyways.”

“Oh, thanks,” You grabbed the strawberry lube and smiled. 

You parted from the nosy cashier and crossed to Bucky as he moved onto the back corner. He turned and caught your hand before you could drop the bottle in the basket. He wrestled it from your grip and read the label. 

“Mmm, strawberry.” He remarked as he let it fall with the rest of his haul.

You wanted to cover your face and curl into a ball. You were mortified. He stopped before the mannequin in a strappy leather number with no real coverage. Tits out and everything else; ass framed by the thick straps. He raised his brows as he admired it.

“Find your size,” He pointed to it. “I know you’re probably more a lace woman but I think this will be...fun.”

He didn’t wait for a response. You sifted through the stack of plastic wrapped lingerie and fished out your size. You caught up to him again and he took it from you without a glance. He led you to the counter and plopped the basket on it.

The red-head began to scan each item at a time and filled a big black bag with them. Bucky tapped his gloved fingers on the counter as he waited. She smiled between you. “Special occasion?”

“You could say that,” Bucky answered. 

The woman giggled and hit total. Bucky reached for his wallet and swiped his card. He seemed unfazed by the exorbitant amount he’d just spent on sex toys. He took his receipt and his bag with a smile and a thanks. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close as he led you to the door.

“Now,” He said as he pulled open the door. “We’re ready.”

-

Bucky grabbed your keys from you as you walked up to your door. He unlocked it with one hand and ushered you inside with a point of his finger. You entered and he was close behind. You unzipped your coat as he set the bag aside and kicked off his boots. He hung his jacket over yours and you struggled to wiggle free of your own boots. 

He grabbed the bag again and urged you onward. When you reached your bedroom, his patience had worn thin. He shoved you in and closed the door with his foot. He placed the bag on your dresser and stirred through the contents. He tossed the lingerie at you and looked to the bathroom door.

“Go on, I’ll get it all ready.” He said. You didn’t wait for him to tell you twice.

You hid behind the door and stripped yourself slowly. You could hear him moving around on the other side. It took you several tries to untangle the straps and when you were certain it was correct, you stared down at your body. The straps were set in triangles around your tits and crisscrossed down to your crotch; another exposed vee. Your ass was propped up by the leather and you twisted as you tried to see it.

A rap of knuckles on the door and you swallowed. You opened it and Bucky raised a brow as he nodded over his shoulder.

“Go on.” He ordered and you stepped past him.

He grabbed the bag of toys and as you stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. He went into the bathroom and the sink cranked on. The straps had been secured, the leash was laid out, and only your bottom sheet remained on the mattress. Your head spun.

“Your ass looks great in that,” Bucky said. “Turn around.”

You turned and he looked you up and down. He neared and set his handful of toys on the night table. He stepped back and slipped his fingers beneath the straps along your shoulder. He rubbed them with his thumbs.

“Look at you, doc,” He purred. “You should start wearing this for our sessions.”

Your jaw tensed and you said nothing. He seemed amused by your visible irritation. He let go and reached for the leash strewn on the bed. He unbuckled the collar and spun back to you. You braced yourself as he wrapped it around your neck and secured it there. He tugged on the leash and you winced.

“Even better.” He let the leash hang limp and backed away as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Go on and get on your knees.”

You did as he said. You almost fell over as you did and stared at the carpet as he unzipped his fly. You listened to the rustle of his clothing. When he neared, he was entirely naked and it took all your strength to look up at him. He bent and grabbed the leashed again.

“Come on,” He pulled and you fell forward onto your hands. He snickered and led you around the room. You moved stiffly; thoroughly embarrassed. A literal dog. “It was like Pavlov. I know you’ve heard of him. They had words that they conditioned me with. Like _sit_.” He motioned and you lowered your ass. “Good girl.”

You trembled in anger. He wrapped the leash around his hand and pulled you closer. “Up. On your knees.” He yanked until you were almost against him. His cock bobbed before you. “Go on and get your bone, doggy.”

You glared at him and he thrust so that his cock poked you in the face. You flinched and lowered your eyes. You parted your lips and poked your tongue out to drag it along his length. You swirled around his tip and he twitched. You covered the head of his cock with your lips. His other hand went to your head and pushed you further.

He hit the back of your throat and you gagged. You barely fought it back as he forced himself deeper until your lips were against his pelvis. You reached to grip his thighs as you struggled to breathe. He relented but quickly crashed back into you. You slapped at him and clawed at his thick muscles. Your loud gulps filled your ears and added to the churning of your stomach.

He moved his hips in time with your head. He fucked your mouth steadily as his groans floated from him. He was like an animal, rutting into you faster and faster. He was fed by the noises of your distress; his power over you. Your body was his to use as they had his.

He sank as deep as he could as his thrusts slowed. He spasmed and grunted. A carnal growl. He came down your throat as your head swelled from lack of air. He held himself at his limit until he was done. He tore you off of him, your leash taut as he kept you from slumping over. His cum dripped from your lips with your spit.

He yanked you up to your feet and dragged his thumb through the mess along your chin. His hand slipped down and stretched over the collar. He unhooked the leash and let it fall to the floor. He backed you up until your knees met the bed.

He shoved you and you fell onto the bed with a bounce. He climbed up after you and pulled on you until you moved. He shoved your wrist into a restraint and secured it tightly. He did the other and then your ankles. He knelt between your legs and tweaked your nipples roughly. You whimpered and he snarled in delight.

He reached to the night stand and grabbed the bottle of lube. He squirted the cool oil between your legs and shoved his fingers down to spread it along your folds. He lifted a brow as he found you wet. He chuckled.

“Oh, doc, you can’t hide it. Not from me.” He continued to rub you and you tried not to squirm. “Maybe that’s the problem, hmm? Did you hold back with the husband? That why he left?”

You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“All you wanted to do was talk but you sure are quiet now,” He taunted and dipped his fingers inside of you.

“_He _held back,” You snapped. “I left him, okay?” You tried to close your legs but couldn’t move against the restraints. “Cause he didn’t wanna fuck me anymore.”

“Good riddance, then.” 

He pulled his hand away and leaned over to grab the dildo he’d chosen from the bunch. It was big and thicker than any you owned. He placed it against you and slowly pushed inside. You gritted your teeth as it stretched you. He stopped as it filled you entirely and you gasped.

Slowly, he began to work it in and out of you. You gripped the straps as your body tensed and your breath hitched. He sped up as he sensed your pleasure mount. As you desperately fought against it. As the moans escaped you and betrayed you to him. Soon, he was slamming the dildo into you as your voice rose without thought.

You came with a curse. You squeezed your eyes shut but could sense his satisfaction. He gloated as he continued to fuck you with the toy. The squelching filled the room and your head. He stopped and let the toy slip out on its own.

“When you did fuck,” The bed shifted as he spoke. “Was it boring? Did he even try?”

“I… Early on, he did. And then, I guess he just didn’t care so long as he came.” You said quietly. 

You’d never told anyone the true troubles of your marriage. You’d fed them all the excuse of too much time apart for work and too many differences. It was all true but the lack of intimacy was the worst of it.

“And did you ever…” He paused and you opened your eyes. He held up a plug and your mouth fell open. “Try anything… new?”

“No,” You said as you eyed the toy. “No, please, I never…”

“We’re starting small,” He coaxed. “Tell me you didn’t divorce that moron to fuck yourself with that pathetic bullet every night.”

You stayed quiet as he undid your binds one at a time. He turned you over and you didn’t offer much resistance. Couldn’t. He was too strong. As he strapped you down on your stomach, you raised your head.

“Are you… recording this too?” You asked as you tried to look at him behind you.

“If I am, it’ll be for my own pleasure,” He assured you. “But I already have more than enough footage, doc.”

Your dropped your head back to the mattress and huffed. His knees pressed against you thighs and a cool trickle seeped between your cheeks. He spread it with his metal fingers and circle your tight ring. It tickled and you flinched. He pushed against your hole and slowly his finger stretched you.

He drew his finger in and out several times as you hissed. It hurt but it wasn’t an unbearable pain. Something about it was delicious and you hungered for more. He shoved another finger inside and you dug your nails into the sheet. You grunted as he played with you.

He pulled out and for a moment, silence. The cap of the lube flicked and you felt a new pressure against your ring. Harder, colder. He pushed the plug in little by little. You whined until he had it in entirely and your ring closed around the stem. You head lolled back and forth as you moaned.

“I always knew you were a tight ass, doc,” He slapped your ass with his metal hand and you yelped. 

You felt the straps slacken around your ankles and he lifted your hips. He pushed his thighs under yours and his cock poked along your vee. He reached between your legs and rubbed his tip against your folds. He entered you easily. Your walls welcomed him as he sank into you completely.

“Doc, my god,” He groaned. “Shit. He missed out, didn’t he?”

He thrust and you moaned. He did it again and you moaned. Again. Each time he did it, you couldn’t hold back. You couldn’t stifle the sheer pleasure of being so full. And then he wiggled the plug as he fucked you. You’d never felt anything so intense. 

The sparks began to spit from your core and seared along your flesh. With each rock of his hips, you grew louder and his hips moved faster. Your back arched as he continued to toy with the plug inside you and his other hand slid down your back. He spread his fingers across your back and held you down.

He pulled the plug out and you gasped. He was quick to fumble around and grab another. He pushed inside and you let out a series of pathetic mewls. It was bigger than the last. You slowly adjusted to it though it hurt all the same.

He grunted with each plunge. Your panting mingled with his and your bodies sang a carnal tune. You could hear it all; the friction, the wetness, the sheer animalism. You came again but couldn’t even cry out as your eyes rolled back. You drooled onto the sheet as the bed jolted below you.

He came too. And he didn’t pull out. You didn’t care as the ripples washed over you. He slowed and exhaled loudly as he leaned back on his heels. He slapped your ass again as he pulled out. His cum leaked from you.

He backed up and dropped your hips back to the bed. He took the dildo and lined it up with your entrance. He slammed it into you and you yiped. He held it there and grabbed the end of the plug with his other hand. Slowly, he slipped it out of you as your ring stretched around it. The emptiness was both a relief and a disappointment.

And then he pulled the dildo out too. He lined himself up with your hole and you tugged at your binds. “No, no…” You whispered. “Please. It’s too much.” 

He stretched you around his tip as he ignored your pleas. He pulled back and pushed back in. He repeated the motion several times, each time, pushing further in. He sank down entirely as he spread his body over yours and you exclaimed. Your eyes were singed by sudden tears.

“Bucky!” You cried. “Jesus fuck, get off of me.”

“Shhh.” He covered your mouth with his hand as he reached out with his other arm. “We both know you want this. You want to be controlled.”

He thrust and you squealed into his hand. His other snaked beneath you and you heard a click. The bullet buzzed against your stomach as he slid it lower. He pressed it to your bud as he ground against you. The vibrations flowed through you. His groans trickled through your veins like venom.

He held the vibe to you with his hand, his other clasped over your lips. You breathed frantically as he sped up. You closed your eyes as you body shook against your will. You came violently. The pure pleasure intertwined with an agony so sweet. You shuddered beneath him and it fed his fervour.

He removed his hand from your mouth and pulled his arm from beneath you. He left the bullet to roll beneath you, still buzzing. He planted his hands on either side of you and lifted his pelvis and slammed back into you. He did it over and over again, his flesh slapping loudly against yours. The pain reverberated through you.

He snarled and hissed. He balled the sheet up in his fist as his other went to your head. He pulled your head up and whispered in your ear. “This is what it felt like. I hated it and loved it all the same.” 

He grabbed the back of your collar and curled your back as he dropped his hips. He fucked you into the mattress as the leather grew tighter and you gasped for breath. And you felt him cum. The current of warmth within was soothing. He slowed and rested his weight over you. He exhaled in your ear as he unhooked his fingers from the collar and stayed inside of you.

“Gee, doc,” He breathed. “I feel a lot better now.” He rolled his hips and you murmured. “A lot lighter.”

**END**


End file.
